


Willing to Burn

by ajremix



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Background Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajremix/pseuds/ajremix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pilgrims kills her first mark. Len struggles to keep Mick's memory alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willing to Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a monster of an idea that sparked from the end of episode 11 before I read what the synopsis for 12 was. Special thanks goes to [nirejseki](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki) for beta-ing.
> 
> Note: Because the show's time stamps make basically zero sense, I'm making up my own birthdays for the characters: Mick's is November 14, 1970 and Len's June 8, 1972. Just to clarify for the readers. And also the Pilgrim has full armor and helmet because honestly.

  
  
His name is Mick Rory. He's technically 45 but he's been alive for hundreds of years after being turned into some sort of temporal hitman. Less than two weeks ago he was your partner. Less than two days ago he nearly turned your face into a smear on the ground. You have every right to cut him out of your life but you can't. You never could in the past and in the coldest, darkest core of you, you're pretty sure you never will.  
  
His name is Mick Rory and you've risked so damn much to save him just to have him die in front of you.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
In the middle of Rip outlining their next course of action Mick clutched at his chest, drawing Len's attention. Half a beat later Sara asked, "Mick- you okay?"  
  
The man gave a wobbly grin. "Figures I'd be the first," then he fell to his knees.  
  
Ray might've been the one standing closest to Mick but Len still got to him first. " _Mick_! What's wrong?" Len had both hands on Mick's shoulders, trying to keep him up right. Then one hand passed right through him. " _Rip, what's happening_?"  
  
"The Pilgrim," Rip said in quiet horror. "She killed him."  
  
"What're you talking about?" Jax sounded on the verge of freaking out. "Why is he fading like that?"  
  
"The Pilgrim killed Mr. Rory in the past. The only reason why he's not gone entirely is because it takes time for the timeline to adjust and given the _Waverider_ 's unique properties as a time ship, it'll take even longer for it to affect us."  
  
"We can stop it, right?" Sara asked, fists knuckle-white at her sides. "We know when and where she is so we can go to before she killed Mick and stop her. _Right_?"  
  
"Yes and no- look, first we have to get Mr. Rory to the medbay where Gideon can set up a temporal stasis field."  
  
" _How_?" Ray asked, hands passing through Mick at random intervals.  
  
"Very carefully. Quickly, now! If time solidifies before we get that field set up, he'll be gone for good!"  
  
That was all Len needed to know. He wrapped his arms around Mick as best he could, he hauling the man toward the door. Ray and Jax helped, constantly having to adjust their holds to keep Mick moving. At least whatever was making him semi-corporeal also made him weigh next to nothing. It also got rid of his body heat and left him incredibly still. If being able to hold a ghost was an actual thing, it would probably feel just like carrying Mick did right now.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory and he's been 43 for all of two months before he damn near burns himself alive because you've decided to officially end your on-and-off partnership of over twenty years. It's been coming for months, you both knew it and you both tried to stop it but there's no stopping a force of nature. You can only bunker down and weather it the best you can or you get the hell out of its way. It's an apt description for when Mick's passions get the better of him and there's only so much you can take before your safety outweighs your relationship.  
  
It happens barely an hour after you leave him. You hear about the huge fire on the news and you know it's him before anyone starts speculating 'arson' because of the timing. Then the news starts talking about the suspect being badly burned and it eventually turns into the suspect escaping and you gather what few items you can't do without and leave town. There's a reason, whenever you two are on the outs, that you put at least one time zone between the two of you. Especially with the possibly that he's hurt, the urge to go back on your word and track Mick down nearly chokes you.  
  
Thoughts of him consume you anyway, even as you're running in someone else's crew all the way in Bludhaven. You wonder if he's alive. You wonder if he's okay. You wonder if he's found some way- or someone -to keep himself together. It takes far more effort than you can ever admit to anyone to not go back and look for him and every day, before you figure out how to drown your thoughts in your work, you wonder if leaving him is a mistake.  
  
Every day in the back of your head, before you drown yourself in your work, the answer is yes.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
By the time Len made his way back up to the bridge- having lingered at Mick's side, afraid to leave him, afraid that would be the last time he ever saw the man -everyone else was gathered somberly around the table. When Len quietly joined them, Rip spoke up. "The stasis field will buy us some time to find the Pilgrim and plan our attack."  
  
"What did you mean earlier by 'yes and no'?" Sara asked him.  
  
"As I've explained before, the Vanishing Point's database constantly updates based on changes made to the timeline." Rip waved a hand at the table. "Unfortunately, as we do not have access to it, Gideon will have to actively check each time period for any news on Mr. Rory's death." Inclining his head respectfully at Len, he said in a low voice, "Mr. Snart, if you can give us any information on your partner's early whereabouts, it would help to speed things up."  
  
"Mick's early memories are pretty spotty, but he grew up on a farm outside of Keystone City," he admitted sullenly. "Some therapist he saw thought some traumatic event made him forget that chunk of his life."  
  
Ray's brow furrowed. "An event like what?"  
  
"Some time in '85 the farm burned down. Took his entire family with it."  
  
There were sharp inhales all around, eyes shifting away in pity or sympathy. Len never really could tell the difference. Eventually Rip said, "If I recall correctly, you met him shortly after?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Then she likely killed Mr. Rory before then. While both of you have minimal impact on history, your partnership is well documented. She may figure her chances are greater without having to focus on two of you at once."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Sara gave Kendra an odd look. "The Pilgrim? The assassin out to kill our past selves?"  
  
"I know that, but who's Rory?"  
  
Everyone paused. Long enough so Rip's tiny, "Oh no," was audible.  
  
"You're kidding, right?" Jax asked. "Big guy, unhealthy obsession with fire, recently tried to kill us?"  
  
Stein looked confused. "Are you saying we have a prisoner?"  
  
"What- no!"  
  
Len cut right to the point, "Rip, what's going on?"  
  
"The timeline change is beginning to take effect- Gideon!"  
  
"I am searching through the time and location Mr. Snart suggested."  
  
"Good. Everyone to your seats, once Gideon's found something we'll be on our way!"  
  
"What have Ms. Saunders and I forgotten and why are we the only ones that have?" Stein asked, harnessing himself into the seat next to his partner.  
  
"Mr. Rory is a teammate and the Pilgrim's first target. As for why you're forgetting, are you familiar with the saying no one is truly gone as long as they're remembered?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"This is like that but in reverse. Given he has been killed in the past, the Mr. Rory Gideon currently has in a temporal stasis field is now a remnant of an alternate timeline which time is trying to correct by erasing him. The stasis field can only do so much, however, and our memories of him are a good indicator of how much the new timeline has solidified. The less significant memories are the first to vanish, which means those his presence has impacted the least are also the first to forget him."  
  
Len's hands tightened over his harness painfully. "So once our memories are gone, it means he's dead."  
  
"As we- most of us -currently know him, yes." Rip's fingers thrummed impatiently on the console, waiting for Gideon's results. "Which does not mean we won't be able to save him if we do forget."  
  
"But we won't know that he needs to be saved and might not remember to." Sara said gravely. She reached out to press an elbow against Len's arm. Len kept his eyes locked on the floor and focused on not being sick.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Captain, I have found the date of Mr. Rory's death, although there is no clear consensus of time."  
  
"Set course, Gideon. Five hours before your best guess of time." Once the date was locked, Rip pulled the lever.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory and he's 16 when you first meet. He's bigger than you but that's not a surprise- he used to call you 'runt' until you impressed him enough to be upgraded to 'kid'. He's also bigger than most of the other kids in juvie. Big enough to scare off the guys that jumped you. You don't know why he bothered to save you but you also figure out that he doesn't care enough to try to drive you off when you start sticking to his side for protection. He doesn't actually try to protect you, either, but the others either give you a wide berth or slink off from their shit talk the moment they see him.  
  
Mick is quiet and you always forget that when you're not actively remembering the moment. He's quiet and keeps to himself but when the mood strikes- and it takes you years to figure out when that mood strikes -he's absolutely vicious. You don't really talk to him when you're with him but you still notice things, like the way he watches the guards smoking and the way his hand twitches when he does. You decide- for no real reason you can think of -to pickpocket a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from one of the guards. When you give them to Mick he tosses the pack over the fence, flicks on the lighter and just stares at it. You start having second thoughts but you stay by him anyway because leaving Mick means the possibility of being attacked again.  
  
He stares and stares and you start counting seconds in your head. It's close to twenty minutes before he finally puts the lighter away. Then he grabs you by the shoulder and tucks you underneath his arm. "C'mon, runt."  
  
He's not quiet after that, all flashing teeth and quick temper, pulling you everywhere he goes with his arm over your shoulders like a brand that you can't take off. A brand that- if you ever admit in your most honest, most vulnerable thoughts -you never want to take off.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The _Waverider_ came out over some idyllic Kansas farmlands. Len, being a city boy at heart and having never seen anything less metropolitan than the suburbs, hadn't known what to expect but at least it wasn't some Green Acres shit. After the rest of the team had taken stock as to what amusing time traveling side effects they had incurred that time around, they huddled up by the table to make their plans.  
  
Gideon displayed what would end up being tomorrow's news article. Len's hands curled into fists as he read. The Rory family- Mick's parents, an older brother, a grandmother and a couple pets -had died in a late night house fire while Mick himself had been found in one of the fields, shot twice.  
  
Stein let out a soft, "Dear God" while Jax bit his lip, looking like he wanted to hurt something but not having anything available. The article said that there'd be an on-going investigation into the matter but they all knew what would become of it. Absolutely nothing.  
  
According to various sources the exact time of Mick's death was still unclear. Rip, voice solemn, said, "The Pilgrim likely won't make a move until after the fire starts but we should be ready beforehand. We'll set up surveillance points around the farm. One of us should keep watch on Mr. Rory himself, just in case the Pilgrim manages to slip by the others."  
  
"I'll do it."  
  
"Mr. Snart, perhaps it would be best if someone-" Len merely lifted his eyes to gaze coolly, defiantly at Rip, causing him to stutter and trail off. "Right then, let's decide on positions."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory and he's 28 the first time you two have sex. It's a frantic mess because you're both drunk on adrenaline from a huge score gone right, alcohol in celebration of and spontaneous lust. Or so you tell yourself, grinding against his thigh while he rides yours. Truth is you've been wanting his hands on you for months, maybe years until you finally crack enough to think to yourself 'just once'. And after it's over, his chest pressing against yours and his hot breath on your sweat-slicked skin, all your thoughts are consumed with thoughts of 'more' and that's frightening enough that you push him back and mumble some sharp excuse you can't remember.  
  
It happens again though. Eventually. Infrequently. Because it scares you how much you want it even as you're determined to leave your mark on him, wanting him to want you just as bad. And he does if those lingering heated looks of his mean anything but he never starts it. Because you're the one with the touch problems and you're the one that pulls him back when he goes too far.  
  
Knowing that he lets you have that kind of power over him is heady. It's addicting as hell and you can't help the spur of jealousy in your chest whenever he finds satisfaction in someone else. It doesn't help that you know that sometimes he does it deliberately to provoke you, drawing someone in close while looking at you like he'd replace them with you in a heartbeat if you ever unbent enough to admit that's what you want.  
  
But you never do because you know the moment you say the truth out loud, he'll be the one with all the power. In a way Mick already is but this way he'll actually know it. You've spent so much of your life at other people's mercy that you can't bring yourself to give it up to anyone, even the person you trust most in the world. Sometimes you think about how bad you are for each other, winding each other up, reinforcing each other's bad habits and you think he deserves so much better than you. But you still can't let him go.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Len didn't take much time preparing. He always kept his cold gun holstered at his thigh and there was no need to try to blend in to the time period. All he needed was to grab his goggles from his room, ignoring the sharp pang in his chest as his gaze slide over the casing of Mick's heat gun by his bed.. Then he went straight to the medbay where Mick was laid out on the cot. A staticky looking field around him made Len keep his hands to himself. He was never big on physical displays but he had never wanted anything so much as to take Mick's hand at that moment. Make sure he was really there.  
  
He ran his hands over the cot by Mick's shoulder because it was the closest he could get. "Don't you dare leave me," he said quietly, barely even aware that his thoughts were leaving his mouth. "We're going to save you and I'm going to shatter that chronological shit stain into a million little pieces. So don't you dare leave me."  
  
"Mr. Snart, Captain Hunter is requesting your presence on the bridge."  
  
He stared at Mick, a longing welling up so deep inside it made his chest hurt. "Gideon," Len's voice was tight, "take care of him."  
  
"I will do everything I can, Mr. Snart."  
  
His hand lingered near Mick's for another moment before Len finally pulled himself away.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory and like a damn fool you let him go. _Twice_. The first time was for real, even if it didn't last. The second time someone else came and scooped him up before you had a chance to get him back. And now he's different and you don't know what to do with him or yourself. You wish it was like before, you wish you'd never come on this stupid mission, you wish he wasn't on the verge of no longer existing so you wouldn't have to focus on how much he means to you.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
By the time they finally moved off the ship Jax had forgotten Mick and Ray's memories were getting fuzzy. He remembered Mick saving him in the gulag but for everything else he had to screw his face up tight to get the picture to come out right in his head. In response Len started cycling through his own memories faster.  
  
The farm itself was, well, Len supposed it was a typical farm. Not much different from brief glimpses he got on tv though the lack of livestock was a bit of a disappointment. There were fields of something he couldn't recognize- wheat, soybeans and corn according to Kendra who apparently was a farmer in a past life -and the _Waverider_ was parked in the field furthest from any houses or roads. Even cloaked it made a great big imprint in the field and probably did the crops themselves no favors but there wasn't any place else to put it.  
  
Only Len had an idea of what Mick looked like at the time, in this new timeline he hadn't lived long enough to get his picture taken for juvie. He told them to tell him if they found someone that looked around fifteen, sixteen and he'd verify. Kendra called in first, "/I think I see him. He's in the barn, working on a tractor./"  
  
Len moved into position, his knee-jerk reaction to the almost slender kid with a thick wave of hair was to disregard him. But the kid moved with a purpose, working on the machine with a familiar focus and all it took was a flash of his profile for Len's heart to feel like it stopped.  
  
It was him, Len knew it was him but he went in closer to get a better angle anyway. It was... jarring. Seeing Mick so young and open, comparing his big eyes and smooth face to that of Mick now, haggard and closed off, his perpetual anger twisted by the Time Masters. "That's him," Len said, not even bothering to try hiding the cracking in his voice.  
  
"/Alright. While Mr. Snart keeps an eye on the young Mr. Rory, the rest of us will look out for the Pilgrim. She won't hesitate to take any of us out if she's given the opportunity./"  
  
"/Okay/," Ray said over the line, "/what does she look like?/"  
  
"/My guess/," Sara told him, "/would probably be that she's carrying weapons and doesn't look like a farmer./"  
  
"/I'm a city boy, I don't actually know what a farmer looks like./"  
  
"Then be suspicious of everyone," Len snarled. "If I find out that you let her walk by you, Raymond, you won't have to worry about being her next target."  
  
"/Okay. Extra paranoid it is./"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory and he's sixteen when you first meet. He's bigger than you but that's not a surprise- he used to call you 'runt' until you impressed him enough to be upgraded to 'kid'. He's also bigger than most of the other kids in juvie. Big enough to scare off the guys that jumped you, not that any of them were willing to push their luck when they see a uniform.  
  
No. No- you're picturing a guard, not Mick. Your oldest partner and only friend. He's not dark skinned or bushy bearded, he snuck you food from his own tray, not little bits of candy from home. You didn't struggle to survive every time you stepped away from the guards because you stuck to Mick like a shadow and no one bothered you so long as he didn't shove you away.  
  
But he never shoved you away because you always did it first. Even as the other memories start to go fuzzy you remember that much because that pain is never going to leave your chest.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The sun was setting and Mick got called in for dinner. Len couldn't get eyes inside the house so he sat as close to it as he felt comfortable- next to the barn where he could see the front door of the house but could duck out of sight if he needed to. He wanted to take Mick straight to the _Waverider_ , make the Pilgrim come to them where they could have the battlefield set in their favor but he was too much of a strategist to ignore the possible holes in that plan. They had the element of surprise on their side now but if she saw that they were on her tail she'd likely switch her target to someone else while setting up her own trap in response.  
  
The wheat behind him rustled, just enough to let him know Sara was announcing her presence. She sat next to him and pressed a thermos of something into his hands. "Eat up."  
  
He hadn't eaten all day. Everything was just so hectic; he'd been running on adrenaline and worry more than anything else. He hadn't even thought about food. Even now his stomach wasn't much in the mood for being filled but he knew he'd need it for the upcoming fight.  
  
"Gideon still hasn't spotted her," she said as Len took his first gulp. It was more stew than soup and he chewed on whatever came in it. "You should take a break. Stretch your legs some. Breath in that good, country air."  
  
Len just grunted, never looking away from the farmhouse. As the silence between them stretched into minutes, Len felt the weight of Sara's gaze on him. He returned it with a glare. "What."  
  
"This Mick must mean a lot to you." Sara laced her hands together, propping them up on her knees. "I've never seen you break that Captain Cold act of yours."  
  
He never had to break the act around Sara. She had an unsettling tendency to see right through it though Len would admit to himself that it was refreshing having someone call him out on bullshit. It made him miss Lisa.  
  
The sudden distraction of his sister caused Len's internal narration to waver and he could swear he felt bits of Mick slipping out of his memories. His brow furrowed and he started it up again- ' _His name is Mick Rory_ ' -before saying, "Never had much I cared about. Never had anything I ever really considered mine."  
  
"But he was one of 'em?"  
  
"He's my partner." Was, at least. But Len wasn't willing to let him go.  
  
"You ever tell him that?"  
  
"What makes you think I haven't?"  
  
She shrugged. "You just got that kinda desperate look on your face that says you think you've run out of second chances."  
  
Len looked away. He was suddenly regretting how well Sara could cut to the heart of the matter. "He knows."  
  
"But did you say it?"  
  
"I never had to. He knows." Or he did. Once. Before he got the idea in his head that Len was trying to throw him away.  
  
They stayed silent for a drawn out moment, Sara studying Len's profile as he resolutely looked away. Eventually she stood and said, "When we save him- and we will -tell him that. Out loud. If he means that much to you, he deserves to hear it."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory. He's... he's your partner. You don't remember for how long but it may as well have been forever. He gives you something. You don't remember that either and you're splitting your head open trying to remember because it's important. No one's ever given you anything before, especially something that takes your breath away. Especially not because they thought you could use it and just felt like it.  
  
It's important but you can't remember so you just keep his name running through your mind like a lifeline.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The lights in the farmhouse went off. On the comm line Rip was asking Gideon about the delay while Jax complained about Stein falling asleep on his shoulder. Ray yawned loudly and Kendra's light admonishment to him was interrupted by her own yawn. Len kept staring at the farmhouse, wringing his hands together because the longer this took, the more his impatience and panic were pressing down on him. His mouth was dry, hoping that reminiscing out loud would make the memories stick in his mind better, but they kept slipping away. It was like grasping at air currents, losing his words as the memories left him.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory and... he...  
  
Fuck.  
  
 _Fuck_.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Len had been staring at the house for so long he almost didn't recognize the fact that it was beginning to burn. He jolted upright, ready to get on his feet when the front door opened and a teen came out. He stopped at the end of the walkway to look at the fire and not long after Len could hear voices starting up from inside the house. The kid just kept staring. Sat down on the ground with his hands around his knees, staring.  
  
Len watched him, horrified, hand tightening over his cold gun as the voices turned to screams. What was _wrong_ with this kid?  
  
Rip's voice suddenly called out, "/I see the Pilgrim!/"  
  
The memories crashed down on him. _Mick_. Len called into the comm, "Gideon, call the fire department!" He ran toward the kid, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to his feet, "We gotta go."  
  
The kid- Mick -didn't say anything but he didn't make any real move to run, either. He kept looking back at the fire, tripping over his own feet as Len determinedly yanked him onward. Overhead Kendra and Ray flew into battle.  
  
Len cursed to himself, still dragging Mick along. The plan was he was supposed to take Mick to the _Waverider_ and lock him up somewhere safe before going in to join the fight. But since the battle was taking place between them and the ship, the next plan was to get Mick to the closest neighbor who happened to live some miles away. Fucking farms.  
  
There was an explosion behind them and it wasn't the house. Len risked looking over his shoulders and saw blue flashes followed by a pillar of fire. That got Mick's attention, shaking him out of his stupor and picking up his pace.  
  
"Not quite ready to join that battle yet, kid." Len said, catching Mick turning his head towards him from the corner of his eye. He made a mental note to wonder later why Mick was running with him without any question or hesitation. They made it out of the soybeans and into the wheat; Len had to drop Mick's wrist so he could use both arms to clear his path. The wheat was so tall that he was having trouble making sure they weren't veering off course. _Fucking farms_.  
  
A sudden wrongness pricked at the back of his neck a moment before Len realized he couldn't hear Mick anymore. He spun around, expecting to find the Pilgrim bearing down on them but instead there was nothing. Not even the kid and Len felt his heart stop. "Mick," he called out, panic starting to well. " _Mick_!" He ran back, trying to find some trace of him and nearly stepped on Mick's arm. The kid was on the ground, shockingly silent and half curled in on himself as blood spread over his back. A horrifying thought struck Len- that the reason why his time of death was unclear was maybe because the Pilgrim hadn't gotten a clean kill the first time around and Mick just bled to death, hidden in the wheat field.  
  
He all but fell to his knees at Mick's side, pressing the heel of his hand into the wound to stem the bleeding. There was no where safe to take Mick, even if Len didn't have a pulsing fear in the back of his mind about picking the boy up- the Pilgrim had managed to shoot him while fighting the others on the other side of the field, he didn't want to give her more opportunities to finish the job. There was only one thing he could think to do, rolling Mick onto his front and pulling out his gun. "I'm sorry," he said, right before laying a thick coat of ice over his back.  
  
Mick cried out, his voice hoarse and Len wondered just what he'd gone through in the early parts of his life, started doubting for the first time that the trauma that had blocked those early years from his memory was just the fire. "C-Cold," he stammered, clawing at the edge of the ice, trying to pry it off his skin. Len caught his hand.  
  
"I know, I'm sorry. I know you can't stand the cold." He squeezed Mick's hand in his. Mick was so small. Big for his age- he'd always been -but Mick had always been bigger than Len. He'd always seemed so much bigger than he was in reality. But now his fingers felt small in Len's palm, his shoulders slim and fragile and he was so damn thin it that was overwhelming. "You have to survive, Mick. You can't die. You can't leave me. Please don't leave me. I need you. I always needed you, even if I never said it. Stay with me. You've always been the tough one, so stay with me."  
  
There was the faint and growing sound of sirens and for the first time in his life it brought Len relief. He picked up Mick- impossibly light, too light to be Mick -and ran towards the flashing lights and thankfully away from the fight. "I'll take care of you. I know it doesn't always seem that way, but I will. I promise. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Mick. I know you won't remember much later, but remember that."  
  
He snuck toward the fire truck, close enough that he was certain they'd find Mick and laid the boy out on the ground. Unable to help himself, Len ran a hand over Mick's cheek and the kid stared at him, quiet and intense, like he was committing Len's face to memory. He gave Mick's good shoulder a squeeze and then stole away to join in the fight.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory. He was born November 14, 1970. He's 16 when he saves you in juvie. Saves you again five years later in Iron Heights and continues to do so for years after.  
  
His name is Mick Rory. He's your partner and your closest friend and one of the only people in your life that means a damn thing.  
  
And you're going to make the Pilgrim regret ever trying to take him away from you.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
By the time he reached the fight- further away from where the firefighters were spraying down the house -Len was out of breath. He'd been slacking on his cardio in the tight confines of the _Waverider_ but this wasn't the time to be reminded of that.  
  
Len took a moment to catch his breath, freezing the fires that had ignited around the team- they may be trying to kill the Pilgrim but they didn't need to burn themselves up along with her. The first shot he got on her was a clean hit but it did little more than coat her armor with a bit of frost. Seemed like her armor was made of the same stuff as Chronos's handcuffs. Then he caught sight of something- a tear in her sleeve -a bit of skin flashing in the light of the flames. Len aimed carefully, focusing on keeping his breathing and hands steady. He'd never be on the same level of marksmanship as Floyd Lawton or David Cain, but he'd always been a damn good shot when the situation called for it. And his skills proved themselves once again.  
  
His ice caught purchase on her torn sleeve, cracking through it and into her skin, coating her arm. It drew her attention long enough for Kendra to swoop in and smash the ice with her mace. The Pilgrim's arm shattered and fell to the ground in a mess of sparks and wires.  
  
"Aw, hell no! She really is a fucking Terminator!" Firestorm cried out, laying into the limb with a steady stream of fire, just in case severing it wasn't enough. It crackled and melted into nothing. "You couldn't tell us this, Rip?"  
  
"I didn't know! I don't know every little detail about the Time Masters' attack dogs!"  
  
The Pilgrim didn't pay them any attention. Instead she turned smoothly to Len, apparently not caring that she was down one arm. "You didn't die when I killed Chronos," she seemed mildly put out by that. "I suppose the Time Masters overstated his importance to you."  
  
His teeth were locked in a snarl. "His name is Mick. And I'm not letting any more of you time traveling bastards near him."  
  
She made a noise almost like a hum and suddenly she was right in front of Len. Not nearly at Flash speed but fast enough to catch him by surprise, barely able to block the strike that bowled him over anyway. Christ, no wonder she hadn't been taken down yet. There was the telltale flash of miniscule lights as Ray flew inside the Pilgrim's wounded arm socket and Len saw Kendra heaving Sara through the air. He rolled away as Sara, armed with a wickedly curved sword, rocketed through the space the Pilgrim had once occupied.  
  
Sara turned to find the time assassin engaged with Rip and Firestorm. Sara glanced down at Len, "You okay?"  
  
Len neglected to point out Sara's smattering of cuts and bruises, none of which seemed to bother her or looked serious enough to slow her down. He adjusted the settings on his cold gun, deciding against offensive attacks and focusing more on slowing the Pilgrim down. "I'm ready to end this."  
  
"You're not the only one."  
  
It was a mess of a fight, the Pilgrim flitting from one target to the next, staying in close so the others had difficulty targeting her without running the risk of hitting a teammate. She got Len with a strike that very possibly fractured one of ribs, destroyed Rip's gun in her bare hand and shot Firestorm out of the sky with a literal cannon that popped out of her arm. She had just managed to grab Kendra by a wing when her body started jerking uncontrollably, sparks coming out of the stump of her arm and smoke starting to spill out from under her armor.  
  
It sounded like the Pilgrim was trying to say something but her voice came out in a glitching, incomprehensible stutter. The lens of her helmet began to flash, her body sparking faster and what few wounds she had starting to glow. Gideon's voice broke through over their comms, "/Captain, I am detecting an enormous power surge./"  
  
"Shit, she's going critical."  
  
"Ray, get outta there!"  
  
A tiny streak of blue light curved out of the Pilgrim's side and suddenly Firestorm was there, dragging her into the sky.  
  
"Jax! Professor! What are you doing?"  
  
"/Don't think she's nuclear, but who knows how big the explosion might be! I'm making sure she ain't taking Rory out again!/"  
  
They watched, helpless as Firestorm shot into the sky until all that was visible was a thin stream of flame. Even from that distance the explosion rattled their teeth and pierced their ears.  
  
"Oh no," Kendra breathed out, taking into the air with Ray at full size following close behind. Len, his goggles protecting his night vision for the most part, tore them off his head to get a better view while Rip and Sara tried to blink their vision clear.  
  
"Do you see them?" He yelled into his comm, ears still ringing.  
  
Ray's voice was ecstatic, "/They're okay! Uh, also bits of the Pilgrim are coming down right at you, so you guys might wanna move. Right now./"  
  
They scrambled toward the _Waverider_ just as the first wave of debris started to rain down on them.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
His name is Mick Rory. You've been partners on and off for thirty years and you're pretty sure you've been in love with him for at least ten. He's reckless and hot tempered and observant and one of the only people that's ever been able to keep up with you and you've just proven that you're willing to fight time itself to keep him in your life.  
  
Despite the fact that neither of you take much stock in words and know each other well enough to have entire conversations in a glance you can't help think that maybe there are some things important enough to be said. To put them out in the open where they can't be hidden or brushed aside. Because he means enough to you to take that risk.  
  
So once everyone's back on the _Waverider_ you head straight for the medbay, summoning the courage to tell him.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Once the crew was back on board the conversation on everyone's lips was how horrified they were at having forgotten Mick, realizing that the same thing could've happened to any of them. Ray pulled off his helmet and blurted out about wanting to make sure Mick was all right but Kendra had sense enough to hold him back.  
  
"He's all right, isn't he, Gideon?" She asked, anchoring Ray in place with a hand.  
  
"Mr. Rory is conscious and fully integrated into the timeline."  
  
"Well, yeah but we can't just not go see him! He almost poofed out of existence!" Ray looked around at the others. "Seriously, doesn't anyone else want to see him? Just to make sure he's not, you know, still ghost-like?"  
  
The last thing Len heard as he charged down the hall was Stein's placating voice, "I believe, my dear boy, that someone else already has first visitation rights."  
  
The medbay doors wooshed open quickly and Len still had to twist himself to keep from clipping them as he barreled through. Mick was already off of the bed, flexing his hands, shifting his weight like he was making sure all parts of his body were still there. He flickered a dismissive look at Len's ungainly entrance. "Guess I owe you guys one."  
  
The words clogged up Len's throat and he had to clear his throat to speak. "Should you be on your feet already?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"The Pilgrim almost killed you."  
  
"She _did_ kill me." Mick cracked his neck, seemingly not at all bothered by his close call. "Past me. Since it didn't actually happen and my temporal state is secure, I'm fine."  
  
But he hadn't been. It had all taken less than twelve hours, but Mick had been literally fading away in Len's hands and Len still had a younger Mick's blood on his clothes, still remembered that young face looking so vulnerable with fear and pain. Mick had been so close to being gone for good. Len chewed on the inside of his lip, still trying to get the words out. "How much do you remember?"  
  
He sneered, like he'd been expecting the question. "Does it matter?"  
  
"Mick-"  
  
"What's it gonna change, Snart? How does me knowing you saved my ass as a kid change what happened between us?"  
  
"It doesn't," he admitted. Quieter than he'd meant.  
  
"Then why do you want to know?"  
  
Because... because... there were a dozen reasons in his head but none stayed long enough to form on his tongue. Len stared at Mick, quietly wishing he would be able to read the need for an answer in his expression.  
  
He must have. Mick always seemed to understand what was going through Len's head- some days better than Len did -and he stepped forward like he was going to shove Len into the wall but stopped before the temptation overtook him. "You wanna know what I remembered? The fire and how beautiful it was. The way my family screamed, how much I wanted to help them but I was too trapped in my own fucking head to do anything." His face went red with anger. The kind of anger Len was used to seeing on Mick, like he felt everything so damn strongly that it was eating him up inside. "And I remembered you looking at me just like you're looking at me now. Like you actually give a damn about me. That look was the only thing that kept me going some days. It was the only thing that stopped me from getting too close to the fire. For the longest time I thought I made it up, just some hallucination brought on by being shot in the back. Then I see you in Iron Heights, after you've gone from a jackass kid to a jackass adult and every once in a while the light would hit you just right and it'd remind me of that night. Of some stranger begging me not to die.  
  
"After a while the memory didn't matter to me because I had something more important to hold on to. Something that I _knew_ was real so eventually I forgot all about it. Right up until the Time Masters tried to strip me of every thought that wasn't vengeance. It all clicked then. I figured out that it was real and that it was you." Mick's jaw was set and there was something behind his eyes, hotter than his usual fire and more unpredictable. His mouth twisted like he was spitting venom but his tone fell flat, trying to cover up something he didn't want Len to hear. "Does it make you feel better knowing the memory of you was important to me my entire life, even if I didn't know it until recently? Does it make you feel better knowing that you were fucking with my head before I even met you?"  
  
Len blurted out, "I love you," because it felt like he'd fall apart at the seams if he didn't.  
  
He looked away, lifting a hand to cover his eyes, that icy wall he was so proud of shattering around him, unable to bear how Mick reacted to his graceless, fumbled confession. He tried to dam up his words but they started spilling out, one after the other. "I love you. I don't know for how long- it might've been always -but I do. I need you. I can't imagine my life without you. I don't _want_ to. You're all I really want in my life- you and Lisa. And if you want to leave the team, I'll follow you. If it's to 2016 or 2046 or somewhere else entirely, just let me be with you."  
  
Len hadn't cried in... well, he couldn't remember the last time he cried. Just like he couldn't remember being as close to tears as he was now. He dropped his hand, staring at the ground, still unable to bring himself to look at Mick. When the silence threatened to break his composure entirely, he turned away.  
  
"Len," he couldn't but help focus on the sound of his name. A familiar, heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, manhandling him until he was pulled against Mick's chest. It nearly triggered his fighting instincts but the lips that pressed against his triggered another set of impulses instead.  
  
It was all so achingly familiar, the way Mick felt, the way he smelled and the way he tasted. Len licked at his lips until he could suck Mick's tongue into his mouth, Mick's stubble prickling against his palms as he clung to the older man. The thick arms around him were just a hair too tight, too possessive but rather than feeling trapped it made him feel nothing but wanted.  
  
That feeling sparked aagainst his already raw emotions and Len pulled back to tuck his face against Mick's neck. "Fuck."  
  
Mick's hands fisted against his shirt tight enough to tug it out of shape. When Mick spoke his voice was wrecked. "How do you walk away from this so easily?"  
  
"Mick-"  
  
"I can't." He pressed his forehead against Len's shoulder and Len could feel him shaking. "Dammit, even after everything that's happened, everything those fuckers put me through, I still can't let you go. Hundreds of years and you're still tangling up my thoughts."  
  
"I can't get you out of my head, either." He massaged his fingers over Mick's scalp, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "That's why I always came back. I can't stay away from you. I don't _want_ to stay away from you."  
  
"I waited so damn long to hear you say that. Kept telling myself that you would."  
  
"You shouldn't have waited." It hurt to say but it was the truth. "I shouldn't have taken so long to say it. I kept telling myself that you knew how much I love you but I was just too scared to say it." Len pulled back enough to press his palm against Mick's jaw, to tell him with their eyes locked together, "I'll say it every day if you want me to. You deserve better."  
  
Mick's eyes slid away. "I'm not who I used to be, Lenny."  
  
"You're Mick. That's never going to change and that's all that matters."  
  
Mick pulled back, his expression haunted with regret and hesitation. "It doesn't fix things."  
  
"No," Len agreed, locking his arms behind Mick's neck, keeping the two of them close together. "But I'm willing to do what it takes to fix it. If you're willing to."  
  
For a long moment- long enough that fear started creeping over Len's spine -Mick just looked at him, as if searching for some impending possibility of betrayal. Then his hand came up and cradled Len's jaw, gentle against a still healing bruise. "Yeah. I'm in. Whatever it takes. However long it takes."


End file.
